


Words

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 20:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is the first fic i've written in over a decade lmao.. Just felt like writing something quick and simple. I know it's unpolished and the timeline is weird, but I wanted to post this now that the mood struck (*´ｪ｀*)





	Words

Yuzu thinks he has always been pretty good with words. Well, in his mother tongue, anyway. At any given time, there are words whirring through his mind ceaselessly, some passing through without trace, others distracting, even distressing. He’s always made sense of the world by verbalising, filling hundreds of pages of training notebooks with minuscule details of his mental and physical trajectories, writing down goals that first seem utterly insane and gradually become real enough to say out loud – at first, just to himself, quietly in his room at night, until the words grow strong enough to state lucidly even to reporters. There’s the thrill of saying something audacious, seeing the astonishment on everyone’s faces. Yes, there are so many things words can do for you. Sometimes, though, it feels like they are not on Yuzu’s side.

\--

It’s one of those days when Yuzu just won’t stop talking. Despite spending so many years training with him, Javi has barely begun to understood where these moods stem from. The best he can do is to gauge whether Yuzu is being talkative in a good way – that is, happy, chattering away because he’s excited about some new goal or accomplishment – or in a bad way, unable to stop poring over a mistake or desperate to distract himself from something. Sometimes, it’s not that easy to tell which is which. Sometimes, Yuzu keeps talking with a smile, face smooth and relaxed, and it takes a while for Javi to realise something’s wrong. Maybe Yuzu’s eyes gleam with an intensity that goes even beyond his usual fire, maybe Javi detects a hard edge of desperation in his voice, maybe he’s repeating the same things over and over, wrapping himself in a cocoon of redundant motions until he just crumbles. 

Well, at least today is not one of those disconcerting days, as the source of Yuzu’s incessant morning monologue is crystal clear. “The sal is still – just no good, no good enough at all, why can’t I get it as consistent as Javi”, Yuzu mumbles as he glides by, setting up for another unsuccessful attempt. He tumbles down, making Javi flinch and immediately move to help him back up, for the fifth time today. Maybe Javi wouldn’t let himself get so invested in Yuzu’s practice otherwise, but Japan Open is not really such a big deal, so he can indulge his friend a little.

“I don’t know why it’s not behaving”, Yuzu says in place of ‘thanks’, brushing ice shavings from his legs. Javi thinks it might be helpful to take a break, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles at Yuzu. To be honest, listening to Yuzu’s running practice commentary is one of the things he’s missed, being away. Yuzu’s English has improved, which has only made the words roll off his tongue more rapidly. “I know you think I should take a break but you know I don’t work like that, it doesn’t work for me, must make this work for myself in my way – this is how I always do it…” and off he goes again towards the other end of the rink, in just two or three smooth motions, the sound of his blades covering his words. And he falls, but it’s not a scary fall. Javi knows he can pick himself back up from this, grumbling gently (probably in Japanese, or maybe he’s still using English out of Javi’s earshot, out of some odd sense of courtesy) while scraping ice off the backs of his knees. “Maybe if Javi wasn’t here my sal would behave!” Yuzu shouts, immediately following up with “Sorry, don’t mean it! So glad to have Javi back where he belongs” and a beaming smile. Javi smiles too, swallowing back a dreadful wistfulness for the present.

\--

What Javi finds much more difficult to deal with is when Yuzu doesn’t talk. This used to happen more often, in the past, and it never got easier. These days, Javi’s nearly forgotten what it’s like.

One afternoon, Javi enters the rink to find Yuzu kneeling in one corner of the ice, although his practice time has ended a good while ago. Javi calls out to him and gets no response. Yuzu is clearly lost to his thoughts, a blank expression on his face. Javi notices he keeps touching his left ankle, drawing small circles over it. This is always tricky. Javi wants to help, but even if he tries to approach Yuzu, he might not be able to break through, might even make things worse. So he decides to just focus on his own practice for now, only stealing occasional glances at the small black-clad figure from the edges of his vision. Yuzu is hugging himself tightly now, swaying slightly. As Javi skates by a few moments later, he hears him choking back tears. That’s it – that’s the limit. Javi’s never been able to leave Yuzu alone when he’s crying. 

“Hey”, he says as gently as he can, bending down in front of Yuzu. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me.” Javi’s not sure if he’s overstepping some boundary by asking, but he thinks getting to the point is better than pretending like everything is normal.  
A couple of minutes pass wordlessly, Yuzu’s breath hitching as he tries to regulate it. “It just hurts”, he says finally, in a small squeaky voice. “It sometimes is like this. Have to stop practice. I hate it so much. Useless”, he says, his words gaining force from anger.  
Javi reaches out a hand to pet Yuzu’s hair lightly, moving up and down.  
“You’re so strong”, Javi says simply, and he means it. Yuzu closes his eyes and falls silent again. He’s not crying anymore.

\--

Of course, Javi’s favourite is happy-talkative Yuzu, his English growing messier with excitement.  
“Did you hear how much they scream for your sal? Everyone going crazy in audience! Of course me too! I was bouncing up and down. You can’t see in footage but it’s true!”  
“It wasn’t even a real competition, I don’t get why you’re so excited.”  
“Stop pretending like you’re so cool and you don’t care! It’s exciting because Javi is supposed to be a retired old man, and still here you are just landing sals like it’s nothing. When I can’t even land sal as well as you, and I’m the one who’s supposed to be still in real competition, it's pathetic!”  
Javi flinches at the last part, searching Yuzu’s face for a sign of sorrow, but finds nothing of the sort. It seems that Yuzu’s spirits are sufficiently high for some genuinely light self-deprecation.  
“You’re like cool uncle everyone likes. I’m so proud of you – want to buy you dinner – what about that place we went last time, with the funny waiter who pretended like –“  
Javi manages to cut through the whirlwind of words, shutting Yuzu up with a kiss. He thinks there’s no chance Yuzu’s mind isn’t going into overdrive in this moment, shifting up gears in blitzing speeds, but he wants to be selfish and just feel this for a while. Processing can come later. 

\--

Over these two-and-a-half decades Yuzu has been alive, he’s learned quite a few things about words. Namely, that they’re a constant companion and an often helpful aide. Yet they can also be a terrible burden, when he’s aware something is off and just can’t stop the words from beating him over the head with it endlessly, driving him to the ground. What’s the point of drowning in words that tell him things he already knows? Or allowing himself to become caught up in hurtful things that he doesn’t even really think are true, at least probably, hopefully? A common thread of sleepless nights, of ruined practices, of evenings spent wallowing in misery are words that somehow turn against him. He just doesn’t know how to stop them, sometimes.

But it seems that at some point along the way, Javi has learned to do that for him. He realises that as Javi kisses him after a silly non-competition, his mind going utterly blank for a second, words disappearing in a blitz of static – beautiful static. He closes his eyes and just feels, for a little.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic i've written in over a decade lmao.. Just felt like writing something quick and simple. I know it's unpolished and the timeline is weird, but I wanted to post this now that the mood struck (*´ｪ｀*)


End file.
